Free The Harvest by Gail Gaymer Martin Page B

moment, I kissed her…and she kissed me back. In my gut, she seemed like an old friend, a fellow traveler in the world of problems and laughter. We were like two lost souls finding each other.”
    “You’ve been reading too many women’s magazines.” Jill shook her head. “Why weren’t you up-front? Why not tell her your breakup was fresh, but the feelings had died long before. Why didn’t you tell her that Donna called, but you weren’t going to change your mind?”
    Ryan’s heart sank. What Jill said sounded so easy. “I didn’t want to add tension to an already-edgy situation.”
    “I don’t blame her for leaving when she saw Donna. Not one bit. If I’d trusted a man, let him kiss me, listened to his poetic rambling about lost souls and fellow travelers, I’d have run out on you, too, when another woman showed up.”
    “I’d planned to tell her…after the fact.”
    Jill rubbed her neck. “But you forgot to tell your plan to Donna. If you had, she wouldn’t have shown up.”
    He grimaced. “Right. So now I need a plan of action.”
    “That’s the first thing you’ve said that makes sense. But I’m wondering if you’re too late, Ryan. Idon’t know Tess well, but I understand how badly she was hurt. The summer after her husband’s death, we sat on the beach for a long time and she poured out her heart. She wondered if she could ever trust again. She asked me about Gary. Why did I trust him? Did I ever suspect that he was cheating on me? How did I make him satisfied and happy? She sounded as if she felt guilty for some reason.”
    As he listened to Jill’s description, Ryan slumped deeper into the cushion, wishing he could vanish. He’d seen Tess’s vulnerability. He’d heard her remarks about commitment and promises. Why hadn’t he been open then and not taken chances?
    “Sitting there with a hangdog face isn’t helping, Ryan. The poor woman was blaming herself. It sounds like after two years she finally found the courage to trust someone—and you really threw her a curve.”
    “I know.”
    “So do something to prove how much Tess means to you. But there are no guarantees.”
    No guarantees. Jill was right. But he had to take a chance. He and Tess had been soul mates, sharing thoughts and feelings. She was meant for him—the hand of God had moved the earth. He had no doubt. Somehow he had to convince her he cared about her more than words could say.
     
    Tess closed her front door and gazed at the wrapped floral bouquet. She carried it to the end table by the window and detached the small card. Ryan.Tears blurred in her eyes as she looked at his signature and simple message. “Please talk with me.”
    She crumpled into a nearby chair while her thoughts drifted back to Mackinaw. Images of their footprints in the sand rose in her memory, imprints washed away by the tide just like Ryan had torn away a piece of her heart. Old beliefs charged through her head. Emotions are fleeting. Love is devious. Men are fickle and dishonest.
    Tess’s thoughts shot back to her life with Al. He brought her flowers on occasion, often after one of his extralong weekends or his very, very late evenings at the office. Were these flowers like Al’s—to salve Ryan’s guilt? Or could she be totally wrong? Were they a reminder of their hours on the island and their first kiss?
    She brushed unbidden tears from her lashes and grabbed the telephone. She’d told no one about the incident with Ryan, and today the memory weighed on her like a boulder.
    Tess dialed her brother’s telephone number. Maybe Dan wouldn’t understand, but Helen might offer her a sympathetic ear.
    After their hellos, Helen’s comment was direct. “So what happened up north? I wondered why we hadn’t heard from you lately.
    Tess’s emotions bubbled to the surface. “I can’t talk about it…or I’ll cry.”
    “Tell me, Tess. I’m not just your sister-in-law. I’m your friend.”
    Pleased that Helen seemed so ready to listen,